


Dei Giorno

by TheCosmicOwl7



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, HRE - Freeform, gerita - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 22:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2599382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCosmicOwl7/pseuds/TheCosmicOwl7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:<br/>Holy Rome and venice go on their usual sunday ride, despite the bitter cold weather. This, all due to Venice's pleading and Holy Rome's inability to deny her anything. The pair end up stranded in an abandoned hunting shack deep within the acres of Austria's estate.<br/>Propriety and instinct are two things that never mesh well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dei Giorno

Winter had taken a hold of Germany. It was deep and dark and bitter-cold; natural this time, yet a sharp bite hung in the air. It was accompanied by a deep frost fringing the mountains and the rolling hills. The were days short, and the nights glinted silver-white with snow and ice that twisted in the cold northerly winds.

Venice had insisted that they go for a ride, as they did every Sunday, despite Holy Rome insisting that a storm would be coming. She always knew how to coax what she wanted from him, using her sinfully sweet, limpid, chocolate eyes against him. They were surely her greatest weapon, and Holy Rome was, in the end, completely defenseless against them. She would be the death of him, surely.

After church, the pair found themselves on their stallions, galloping across the snow covered hills and through the thickly forested surroundings of Austria’s home.

And shortly after that, they were caught in exactly what Ludwig had predicted: a violent storm.

Feliciana had dressed in her thickest skirts, boots, scarves, and her fur-trimmed hoods and cloaks. Her cheeks were rosy with cold, her eyes bright, a dancing flame struck bright against the falling snow and sleet.

The storm came violently and suddenly as he’d predicted and Ludwig had been forced to carry his friend over his shoulder to find shelter. Luckily, he’d been wise enough to keep near the hunting shacks that he and his brother would use on their hunting excursions in the past. He approached the shack quickly, pondering whether it would be a proper place to take her. Fearful that Venice would catch a cold, despite hunting shacks being no place for a lady, Holy Rome hurried towards the cabin and kicked open the door.  
He closed the door and gingerly placed Venice on her feet. She stared up at him goofily and grinned “You knew about this shack all along” She pointed out coily.

Ludwig beamed at her, and she could see the slight tinge of a blush rising to his cheeks. “I’m relieved I knew about this place,” he said, moving over to the dented woodstove in the corner and sighing in relief at the sight of a small pile of firewood stacked beside it. “There’s a bunch of abandoned cabins out here that my brother and I use when we are out on rides or hunting if a storm flares up. It usually happens more with snow than with freezing rain, but when have things ever been simple for us?”

He started to shoot her a teasing grin over his shoulder, but it faded into a wide-eyed stare. He had noticed since his return that Feliciana had begun...developing, but he hadn’t truly, at least not until now. Her bodice and thin white shirt clung to her hour glass shaped curves, and droplets of melting snow and ice from her hair dripped down to her collarbone and slipped down her shirt, pooling between her supple breasts.

Venice tugged self-consciously at her thick, damp skirt. “What?” she asked, raising her eyebrows at him. “What’s wrong?”

Ludwig swallowed hard before gesturing vaguely to her sopping wet bodice. “Um… Your… You might want to—” He coughed, turning back to the fire, his cheeks blazing, “Do something about that.”

Venice tilted her head in confusion before glancing down at the bodice of her dress. Her eyes widened as she realized that the white fabric had turned almost completely see-through from the downpour of sleet, her nipples erect from the cold and clearly visible.

She squeaked and crossed her arms protectively over her chest. "Oh my! Sorry about that," she said awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other, noticing that her toes felt frozen in her boots.

"It’s fine. Really. Completely fine. Very fine. Not that… I wasn’t looking or anything, because that would be… But, no, you’re fine. Absolutely.” Holy Rome coughed self-consciously and loaded a few logs into the old fireplace, concentrating very, very hard on starting a fire and pointedly avoided Venice’s questioning gaze.

"Well," she said finally, rubbing the wet material between her fingers, "I guess I should probably hang this up to dry anyway once you get the fire started. No use catching cold in wet clothes. I’ll take yours too, yeah?"

“No,” Holy Rome sputtered, a bit too emphatically and quickly. He turned from the fireplace and then sharply back, cheeks still flushed. “I mean…uh… No, please. Erm, that’d be unwise. You’ll surely stay warmer with your clothes on.”

"But they’re soaking wet!" She whined and innocently stepped forward, tugging at his drenched and semi-frozen cravat. “Besides, you’re wet, too! You need to take yours off. I’ll dry them by the fire.”

"Clothes on," he insisted, gently pushing her away, coaxing a small spark from the fire. Still refusing to look at her, he continued, "In fact, put your cloak back on. Actually, do you have any more clothes? Put those on, too. Do you want my cloak? I should give you my cloak. Hang on…"

"Ludwig," Venice sighed.

He froze at the use of his Christian name and looked at her sheepishly.

"I’m not going to be naked.” She looked at him sternly, determinedly. “My shift and stockings seem to be okay.”

Holy Rome inwardly thumped his forehead into his palm. Sighing, he accepted her wishes, as always, and closed his eyes before speaking. “Okay,” he said. “Keep an eye on the fire, take off your clothes to dry, and I… I’ll wait outside.” He stood stoically, still avoiding her gaze, and made for the door.

Venice moved quicker than he thought she could and pressed her back against the door, her arms crossed over her chest. “Ludwig,” she said pointedly, “stop being weird! You’ve seen me in my bloomers before.”

“We were physically children! It’s different now! How many times must I explain this Feli?” He huffed exacerbatingly. "Besides I’m not the one trying to strip down to my underwear in front of you!"

"What’s the big deal?” she asked, flabbergasted. “We’re not going to do anything!” She glanced at the rivulets of water running down his chest and his wet, slightly frozen, golden hair, and pressed one finger into his chest. “And you should get your stuff off, too. Last thing I need is you catching cold.”

"I’ll be fine; my country is strong right now. I never catch cold anymore.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, huffing stubbornly. “Besides," he continued, “it’s not proper for a lady and a gentleman, no matter how long they’ve known each other, to be, in any circumstance, naked with one another!”

She leveled him with a glare that he was sure was intended to be forceful, but, considering it was Venice, came off instead as somewhere between pouty and adorable. Though he’d seen her genuinely angry before, and nothing—no war, no empire larger than his—would ever strike fear into his soul as one of her angry moods.

After a long moment, Ludwig sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair. “Alright,” he relented. “Let me see if there are any blankets around here, if nothing else.”

Venice smiled gratefully at him and moved to start undoing the buttons at the front of her dress. The air in the cabin was cold against her bare skin as she shrugged out of the damp fabric, but she wasn’t entirely sure it was the source of the sudden shiver that seemed to shoot through her bones. As she watched Holy Rome pull off his cravat and thin white shirt, the curves of his toned muscles beautifully shadowed in the dim firelight as his skin glistened with sweat and rain water, she determined that he might have been the source.

Wow, she thought to herself, hands stilling at her skirts. Her eyes unconsciously followed a drop of water as it slowly, very slowly, began to track a path between his shoulderblades. She bit her bottom lip as she watched his muscular back flex as he pulled his shirt over his head.

Wow.

“Here," Holy Rome said, his voice cutting into her suddenly warm mind. He handed her a roughspun blanket and bedroll that smelled vaguely of dust and musk. "Probably not the cleanest in the world, but it’ll keep you warm." He draped the blanket around her shoulders quickly.

Venice nodded as she took the offered items, wrapping the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. Was it her imagination, or had Ludwig’s hands been shaking slightly as he’d handed them to her?

"What about you?" she asked, starting to gesture to his bare chest before flushing and staring down at her toes. "Um…won’t you be cold?"

He shrugged, leaning down to toe off his boots. “I’ve been colder, my love. I’d rather you be warm, anyway.”

Feliciana smiled to herself as she started to set up the bedroll, biting her lip. “You’re always so kind to me Roma~,” she said. “Thank you.”

Ludwig’s eyes were inscrutable as he stared at her for a moment. “Um…”

Venice bit her lip a fraction harder, folding it in against her teeth and smiling self-consciously up at him. “Yeah?”

His eyes seemed completely focused on her lips, and he blinked too fast and one too many times. “Can you not…” he started, before shaking his head as if to clear it, and pulled off his boots just a fraction too hard, nearly falling over in the process.

"Sorry," he muttered, setting his tall black boots by the door. "It… It’s nothing."

"Oh," Feliciana said, settling down by the bedroll and pulling her knees up to her chest, her back to the wall as Holy Rome walked over to the fire. He was barefoot and bare-chested, carefully inspected the logs, and she couldn’t keep her eyes from traveling down the sculpted muscles of his back, down the curving outline of his hips, his legs, his toned calves, down to…

"…You have really, really big feet," she said, eyes widening as she realized that she’d said the words out loud. Embarrassed by something she’d said for once, Venice poked her head up, hoping to gage his reaction.

Ludwig turned to look at her, one thick, blonde eyebrow raised, his face illuminated by firelight. “I-I beg your pardon?” he sputtered as if he’d heard her wrong. His brother would often make lude jokes about him having big feet. Saying all the women would want him because it meant that his lower half was also impressive, though he’d never actually thought much about it. That is, not until now. He gawked for a moment at Venice, who could be very clever at times, especially with her word choice, but he wondered if it could have also been an issue of translation, as she was speaking German. Perhaps what she’d meant hadn’t translated well, and it only sounded like an innuendo.

"I, uh…" Feli said, ducking her face behind her knees as her face erupted in a rosy blush. “I never really noticed before. I’m impressed,” she said honestly.

So, perhaps that’s exactly what she meant. Or perhaps she’s just commenting on his foot size and nothing else? He blushed at his thoughts and looked from her to his feet, which were truthfully impressively large as she’d said.

"Oh," Holy Rome said hesitantly, glancing down at his feet. "Yeah. I-I suppose you’re right."

"Not that they don’t suit you," she corrected. “They look very handsome,” she continued, “since you’re so tall,” she added stupidly, hating herself for her own comment. “You’re brother told me that large feet are very becoming on a man. He said I’m lucky if I know a man with very large feet.”

"Ah." He inwardly fumed at the fact that his brother would have the audacity to poison his innocent Venice’s mind with such vulgarities. “You should never listen to what my idiot brother says.” He sighed. “And I suppose if, if that’s something you find handsome… Thank you.” He took her complement, however uncomfortable it made him, and continued tending the fire.

"You’re brother said that hands were important as well, but feet...feet specifically."

"Oh, he said that?” Holy Rome attempted a laugh, but it sounded awkward and strangled. He sat down by the fire, a fair distance from Venice, and cross his arms over his chest and his feet at the ankles. Then Feliciana wondered why he seemed so—well—fidgety all of a sudden.

"I’m still not sure why he thought it was important," Venice said as she tilted her head and peeked at him over her knees, a little disappointed that he was sitting so far away. "Are you just self-conscious that you’ll step on mine when we’re dancing or something?"

Holy Rome smiled slightly. “Now, how often is it that you get me to dance?”

Venice grinned, sliding along the floor a few inches towards him. “Oh, I can be very persuasive.”

"You are, indeed." He sighed, his eyes softening as he forgot the subject, and gazed at his beautifully innocent friend.

"But is that it?" she asked, scooting cutely over until she was seated beside his feet. They really were very, very large and she was almost fascinated by the size of them.

"Ah…" Ludwig attempted, staring at her hesitantly. "Not quite."

"Well, what else is it? Do you have to wear special shoes or something?" She smirked, grabbing a foot playfully.

"No, that’s not it." He dithered, gingerly toying with a nail in the floor board beside him. How could he tactfully change this subject? She was so pure, he didn’t want to ruin it. He couldn’t ruin her by being forced to explain his brother’s vulgarity!

"Well, what is it?” she asked curiously.

She was even closer now, sidling up against him, her hands against his thighs and leaned in close. She started as Ludwig suddenly stood, nearly flinging her aside, and her cheeks burned with hurt and embarrassment and the subtle sting of rejection as she stared up at him. This wasn’t the first time this had happened between them. However this time, this moment, she was thoroughly scorned by his shyness.

Holy Rome shot her a pained look at the hurt on her face, and he took her hand and tugged her up to stand in front of him, folding her against his chest. “Sorry,” he said quietly, pressing his cheek to her hair. “I’m sorry, it’s just…it’s…difficult to...” He struggled to find the words to express himself.

"Difficult to what?” Venice asked stubbornly, wrapping her arms around his waist and turning her face in against his broad chest. His skin was warm and smooth against hers, and her heart was suddenly beating too fast in her chest. A spread of warmth shot down her arms and legs, her fingertips almost tingling, and she, somehow, almost thought that she understood what he was getting at.

"It’s nothing. Really," Ludwig said, rubbing her back slowly.

"Nothing horrible, at least?" Venice asked nervously. “Have I said or done something to upset you?”

"Definitely nothing horrible," he said, tilting her head up to kiss her. It was very quick and shallow, and he pulled away almost before Venice had time to return it. “I-I’m just being a fool my love. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

"Okay," she said. "I was starting to worry." She started to smile, but brought one hand up to her mouth as it suddenly morphed into a yawn.

Holy Rome hesitantly ran a hand over her thick tangled hair, careful not to touch her wayward curl. “Why don’t you take a quick nap?” he suggested. He tilted his head towards the door, where the rush of sleet and snow and howling winds continued. “It may be a while before this storm calms down, and you could probably use a rest after our long ride.”

"Mmmm. A nap sounds perfect," Venice said as she pulled away from his embrace and stretched. "What about you? I know there’s only one bed, but…" She smiled hopefully. "We could share it?"

Ludwig stared at her, cheeks and ears crimson, and turned away. “I, uh…” he stammered. “You know, I-I think it would be better if I kept the fire going, keep you warm. I would hate for you to fall ill. Austria would be furious, you know?” he rambled, gingerly gripping the back of his neck and avoiding her questioning gaze. This situation was plenty improper to begin with, so he couldn’t allow it to get any more out of hand.

He tensed slightly as Feliciana wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, and she surprised even herself as she pressed a kiss between his muscular shoulder blades. “Okay,” she agreed, curving a cheeky grin against his skin. “Don’t let me sleep too long, okay?”

"I’ll let you sleep to your hearts content."

Venice shook her head as she tucked the blanket around her shoulders and snuggled into the bedroll, tugging it up to her chin and turning in against the wall.

He’s always so cute when he’s flustered, she thought as she shut her eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep.

 

Venice wasn’t sure what it was that woke her, or what time it was when it did. She glanced up at the window and noticed that the storm still raged on outside, and the sky had grown much darker, not even illuminated by moonlight.

She was on her side, facing into the room, the dim glow from the fire casting just enough light to see. Ludwig was still by the fire, back slightly bowed, chest still bare.

Did he fall asleep? Feli wondered drowsily as she snuggled back into the blankets and intended to do the same again herself. But Holy Rome dipped his head, emitting a slight, just barely audible groan, and her eyes opened a fraction, her eyebrows raised.

What is he doing?

One of his hands was flat against the floor, fingers curled tight against the hardwood, and she could see the muscles in his back flexing. His teeth were clenched tightly around his lower lip as he uttered a low, hoarse curse.

Was he…?

Venice’s eyes went fully wide as she noticed where his other hand was. Surely, I must be dreaming, she thought to herself as she ducked her head in under the blankets, just keeping her eyes visible. And, oh, she knew she shouldn’t be watching, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away as he knelt before the fire, one hand curled tightly around his member, stroking the shaft in an easy, practiced motion. He rubbed his thumb over the head, which was shiny with precum in the dim firelight. His eyes were closed, breath coming in short pants as he stroked himself, rocking against his heels and up into his hand. He was apparently convinced she was asleep, for he was completely focused on his own pleasure, unaware that she was wide awake and watching in awe.

Oh God… Venice thought, barely even blinking as she watched him. Everything about him was so large—hands and feet and build—but when she glanced down at his long, thick shaft, she finally understood what Mr. Prussia meant about big feet and hands.

She’d seen what a man’s penis looked like—in drawings, in books, in paintings on walls in old Roman brothels renovated by the latest pope—but never… She was a merchant; the granddaughter of Great Rome after all, so seeing a man’s cock should hardly impress her, but, despite that, this was impressive to say the least. No statue or painting could possibly measure up to his penis. It seemed crafted by angels—by God himself—and certainly she had no real experience, not personally, with one. She was a virgin, just as good girls ought to be but, she’d never seen something so tantalizing, so tempting in centuries, perhaps her entire life. Nothing could compare to his, but she did know how large his hands were, and as she watched his thick length slide through his fist, almost mesmerized by the motion, she suddenly thought she understood exactly what his brother had been alluding to with the feet conversation.

She knew she ought to look away, but then she heard her name, barely audible—the shape of the syllables wrapped around a low, whispered moan—and she knew she couldn’t look away. They were uttered like a prayer as he gasped softly, rubbing himself. She was aware it was wrong to watch someone doing anything so private, but she was drawn to him, watching his large hand slide, slick, up and down that smooth and beautiful shaft. She simply couldn’t help herself.

He’s thinking of me, Venice thought to herself, and the knowledge seemed to curl tight and hot in her stomach, somewhere between her thighs as she unconsciously rubbed them together.

He’s touching himself and he’s thinking of me.

Was that why Ludwig had been so awkward and hesitant earlier? Did he not want her to know of his sinful thoughts?

Venice peeked at him again, tongue unwittingly wetting her lips as she watched him fist his shaft, and she dismissed that notion as quickly as it had appeared. He wouldn’t be doing this and saying her name if he didn’t want to touch her.

Just propriety, then, she thought, absently sliding her hands over her abdomen and her hips, wiggling in her bed in search of something she couldn’t quite name.

Propriety was often in their way: she was Austria’s servant, and he was the Great Empire of Europe, so their courtship had to remain hidden. It had been months now, and Ludwig was still so hesitant to even kiss her without permission, even if he did return her kisses with full enthusiasm when the chance was allowed.

But he was always quick to pull back, always quick to end things before they got too far. He’d hold her close and kiss her hair, but always with just enough space between them, just enough distance and chasteness to keep things proper. She almost hated the word as much as she despised her realisation.

She was hardly even surprised, actually. Although her Ludwig was always very affectionate with her, he was always bottling up and forcing down his feelings, and all of that thanks to chivalry and propriety. If she had it her way, she’d burn propriety and all of it’s stupid notions. Now, her dear friend and sort-of lover was reduced to an aroused mess on the floor, which she was sure hadn’t been the first time he’d pushed it down and saved it for later.

There had been a few times where she’d kissed him, moved in closer against him, and he’d flushed and sputtered as she’d brushed against something that she wasn’t entirely sure was… Well, he’d always moved her lightning-quick away from him in those moments, and more often than not had disappeared into his room or his study for a few hours afterward.

Oh God… Venice thought again, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. I know he’d be gentle with me, she thought breathlessly, stroking her thumb over her clit as she watched him groan and grip his length harder. There’s no way he wouldn’t be. He always treated her with such gentleness, such tender care that she knew he’d have to be that way if they’d made love.

Her name was on his lips again, just a bit louder this time, and she watched him, eyes heated and lustful, as he stroked himself harder and faster, spine curved, head ducked against his chest with his breaths short and sharp.

She watched his spine straighten, his hand fisted tight around his cock as he came. His hand shined, slick with his release in the glow of the firelight, and she could only think, lasciviously, of what it would taste like. His heavy breaths and panting filled the damp air of the cabin. She watched him quickly hike up his thick black trousers, which were now dry from sitting beside the fire. The look of shame was illuminated by firelight as he sighed, as if disgusted by himself.

Venice ducked her head in the blankets at the sound of Ludwig coming to his feet. Her eyes tightly shut, she snored lightly as she heard his footfalls halt beside her bed. She was pretty good at feigning sleep, as she’d done it many times before, but Holy Rome always managed to see through her.

This time, however, even her astute Holy Rome seemed fooled by her soft breaths and relaxed face. He sat beside her, and she could feet a large hand stroke the hair from her face. She could hear him murmuring something along the lines of “I’m sorry,” and “I’m sinful. Forgive me.” Her face twisted slightly at his words, thinking of how she’d wished he’d just speak to her about his lust, rather than repressing it and hiding it from her.

“V-Venice… Are you awake?” He choked, his hand retracting from her forehead immediately as he seemed to realise that she could have been awake the entire time.

Venice’s snore turned into a choked cough as Ludwig stood, mortified by his actions. Her eyes shot open and she lept up, ignoring her near nudity and slamming into his chest. “Why do you repress things, Holy Rome?” she asked honestly. “If you want to do things to me, then I want you to know that I also want you to do things to me”.

For a moment he stood unresponsive to her grip. “I-I am mortified you had to see me in such a…disgusting state.” He gently pushed her away. “Those feelings I expressed while I’d thought you were asleep were...well, sometimes men have trouble controlling themselves. I should have known better than to do something so vulgar in front of a lady. I am so sorry I—”

She reached a single finger up to halt his speech. “You,” she said, “are rambling, for one. Secondly, you are not hearing me.” She grasped his hands between her much, much smaller ones and kissed them both firmly. “I don’t see why you hold back so! There is no need to repent for I cherish your feelings both of the heart and elsewhere.” She winked at the last words, and Holy Rome could barely contain a guffaw at her lude implication. “I may be a lady, but I am my Grandfathers daughter, after all” She smiled coily. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can not claim you that way if we are not wed Feli, have I not made that clear?”

“Than you may have my hand, marry me” She leaned up and pressed a soothing kiss to his surprised cheek “I am yours Holy Rome, until the day I die”

Suppressing the squirming desire to push her away, overwhelmed by his intense desire to thrust himself on her, Ludwig smiled softly “And I, yours” He kissed her gently on the lips before pulling away “Until then, however, we must wait my love”

She pouted slightly “But you have such handsome feet my lord” she winked wickedly and he sighed “Sometimes I think you get great joy out of seeing me suffer my dear”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it, not my best, but I've had this one forever and been neglecting posting it.  
> SHOUT OUT TO MY BETA ON DA. YOU'RE THE BEST BB.


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